Prophecy from Solar Surfaces
A shadow is a message from the realm
Of light. Wherever suns are banished, dark
Imposes silence for the eyes. An elm
With blackbirds’ wings within it in a park
Is useless to convey the patterns leaves
And feathers might spread out along that trunk.
Those limbs despair of hope for holy sleeves.
They seem as silent as a Trappist monk
Becoming mute like hermits. Exiled beaks
In blackness will not raise their tongues in song
When every star across the cosmos seeks
Out black hole doom. Voiceless darkness is wrong.
A shadow is a message from afar,
A message maybe from a distant star.